Night Blooming
by Nicluv1787
Summary: A collection of unrelated erotic drabbles and one-shots placing characters from InuYasha into varying houses of The Night Blooming Court. Adults Only Please.
1. Unyielding: Part One

Title: Unyielding Part One

Author: Nicluv1787

Fandom: Kushiel's Legacy & Inuyasha  
Rating: M

Prompt: Yielding  
Character: Kagura  
Word count: 207

Summary: For want…

Warning: BDSM references.

A/N: This is part of a new crossover collection called 'Night Blooming' placing characters with the universe of Kushiel's Legacy more specifically in varying houses of The Night Blooming Court.

Kagura didn't fit the perfect canon of Valerian, whose house motto was 'I yield'. She could take the pain, indeed she enjoyed the sting of a flay across her back, barbs digging into her supple flesh, raking blood red lines so near the gentle curve of a growing marquee. But she was no anguisette. She'd learned as a child the way a spicy candy elighted her senses, it was the pleasure mixed with pain. She understood that and enjoyed it. What made Kagura stand out, making her a liability at times, was her unwillingness to submit. She was unyielding. Countless patrons had come and gone, finding the stubborn woman who would not fall down at their feet.

The Dowayne was hard pressed to find a place for her in the house, none could please her, and adversely she could satisfy none of the patrons. But her marquee was bought, there was no turning back, the simple scroll had already been etched on her lower back from her virgin price.

Hoped seemed lost to Kagura. She lazed her day in want for keen sting of the whip or flay at the hand of a true master who could use her the way she'd been trained… until he came.


	2. Unyielding: Part Two

Title: Unyielding Part Two

Author: Nicluv1787

Fandom: Kushiel's Legacy & Inuyasha  
Rating: M

Prompt: Yielding  
Character: Kagura and Naraku  
Word count: 300

Summary: A new patron

Warning: BDSM, pwp, blood.

A/N: This is part of a new crossover collection called 'Night Blooming' placing characters with the universe of Kushiel's Legacy more specifically in varying houses of The Night Blooming Court.

Kagura sauntered into the candle lit chamber, sending long shadows across her patrons face. Long fingers grasped a leather flay with glinting metal tips, he flicked it impatiently hitting the palm of his hand.

"You're the unyielding one?" his voice low, yet commanding.

"Yes."

"You will yield to me,"

Kagura suppressed a disbelieving smirk; he wasn't the first to say that.

Naraku rose from his seat, striding over to Kagura. In the dim light she didn't see his hand as it darted out to take a fist full of her hair, he pulled up bringer her to her knees. His free hand reached into his pants freeing his cock, he shoved it into her mouth.

"You _will _yield to me."

Kagura took his length into her mouth, while he used his hand fisted in her hair to guide her up and down his shaft, until he reached completion spilling onto her face.

Pulling back he led her over to the cross strapping her in tightly. Kagura could not suppress the feeling of desire pooling in her stomach as Naraku skillfully dragged a bladed flay into her flesh. The warm sticky blood blossomed on her skin running in rivulets down her spine. She cried out, th_e signale _at the tip of her tongue, but she held back. Naraku tossed aside the flay. Coming over to Kagura he spread her butt cheeks roughly, impaling her with his cock, using her own blood as lubricant. Kagura bit her lip, drawing blood filling her mouth with the hot, tangy liquid. Naraku grunted his release spilling his seed deep within her. He released Kagura's bonds letting her crumple to the floor, a bloody sticky mess, she looked up into his red eyes boring into her. She knew then no patron would ever be his match.


	3. Night of Perfection

Night of Perfection

A/N: Originally written for the secret ingredient **'Willful'** at the monthly contest community Fanfic_bakeoff. This installment is a total of 298 words.

* * *

Soft candle light flickered on the walls, capturing the young girl's interest, or at least, she pretended it did. Rin glanced over to the door for the hundredth time, how much longer would she have to wait? It was bad enough her friends had bought her a night in the Court of Night Blooming Flowers, but Camellia? Perfection? Was she really worthy enough to be giving her first time to someone perfect?

Rin was so absorbed in thought she did not hear the adept enter the room.

Sesshomaru placed a hand on her shoulder. Rin nearly shot out of her skin, turning wild eyes on the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. They weren't kidding when they said perfection.

"Good evening," he greeted.

"Hello," Rin swallowed, hard. She'd been expecting some willful pretty boy, not this.

"My name is Sesshomaru."

"I'm Rin."

"Rin," an imperceptible smile graced his perfect features, "are you ready?" Rin nodded slowly. "Good."

Long fingered hands reached out for the tie to her robe. With skilled hands he slid the tie from around her waist letting it fall to the floor. Rin trembled with nervousness and desire as Sesshomaru slid the shoulder of her robe down, pressing feather light kisses along her collar bone. Her pulse quickened as he laid her down on the bed. He hovered above her, running skilled hands along her heating skin, down to tangle in her patch of black curls.

His heated breath travelled across her skin leaving her wanting with anticipation. By the time she felt his breath on her thigh, she was nearly to the brink. One slash of his tongue had her bucking up to meet his mouth.

His grip tightened on her thighs, meeting her half lidded gaze, "Tonight, you will truly learn about perfection."


	4. Back Again?

A/N: Originally written for Fanfic_bakeoff for the month of May, the secret ingredient **"willful**" this is installment is 288 words.

* * *

"Back again, I see."

Inutashio looked to the doorway, a grin pulling at his lips, "Indeed I am, My Lady."

She entered the room with a smooth elegance -the same elegance that had captured his attention the first time he'd stumbled into Dahlia.

"Have you missed me?" he teased, coming over to wrap his arms around her waist.

She titled her head back to receive his kiss. Pulling away a small smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. "It would seem you are the one who has missed me."

"I guess it's true," he cupped her breast beneath the fabric of her elegant robe, rolling a peak between thumb and forefinger. Abruptly he turned her to face him, "Come away with me?"

She smiled, and captured his lips in a kiss, "You are hopelessly romantic."

"So I've been told." He smirked.

She stepped from within his grip, "Sit down."

He wordlessly obeyed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Capturing the fabric of her robe with her thumb, she pulled it off her shoulders letting it pool at her feet. Inutashio leaned back, his own robe opening to reveal his straining cock. The Lady strolled forward. Straddling him, she caught his mouth in another kiss, before lowering herself onto him, filling her to the hilt. Inutashio grabbed her by the waist letting her sit for a moment.

"I mean it," he said earnestly.

She ground against his cock, giving him sultry eyes; eyes no man could resist. Inutashio's eyes rolled back into his head at the sensation of her core writhing on top of his cock.

She leaned in close, her breath on his skin, "I know you do." _and_ _I'm too willful to agree. _


	5. Imbalance

Title: Imbalance

Author: Nicluv1787  
Rating: M

Genre: Romance

CU/AU: AU

Prompt: Fall

Characters: Miroku and Sango

Words: 2710

Summary: A bet that could lead to some much more.

A/N: This installment was originally written for Mirsan_fics at Livejournal for the prompt **"fall"**

**

* * *

**

The dim sounds of merry-making rolled over him as he slid through the crowd, stepping out onto the adjacent courtyard. The faint sounds of heated exchanges were carried to his ears like sweet music. Tonight was the night for celebration, to let Namaah's servants rejoice in one another's company. And that's just what he planned to do tonight. In his hand he held a drink, untouched, it was merely to give the impression that he'd partaken of drink, as the others surely had. They would all be intoxicated by now, and easy pickings for a skilled Bryony adept with a pair of dice. He smirked as his concealed hand thumbed his favorite pair of dice. Who would his victim of the night be he wondered? The Midwinter Masque came only once a year and he'd like to enjoy it to the fullest. Tonight seemed especially poignant since he'd reached his marque only one week ago. His hand impulsive reached back to trace the healing flesh of his full back tattoo, a physical representation of his repaid debt to the house. A triumphant smirk pulled at his lips, not that he'd be quitting anytime soon, he enjoyed his work too much. As an adept of the night court he nightly entertained the richest or luckiest members of society, at most times at his own digression -a luxury enjoyed by the gambling night workers of Bryony.

Slipping past a tangled pair of lovers on a stone bench, he slid through a stone archway into a separate courtyard. In the center stood a marble fountain, candles were placed around the edges, sending a soft glow onto the surrounding area. His eyes trailed across the space to a woman kneeling next to the water's edge staring intently into the flickering candlelight on the water's edge. She wore a deep-gray robe, with a darker gray wrap about her head. It took him only a moment to realize what house she was from –Asylum- They had come dressed as Yeshuite priests and priestess for the midwinter masque this year. –Each house had chose a different theme-

Silently, he strode up taking a seat next to her.

"Nice night," he remarked simply.

He heard her breath catch before she glanced over at him through her lashes. "It is."

He had to stop himself from smirking broadly at her, could a woman exemplify Asylum's house Canon –with eyes averted- more perfectly?

"What are you out here alone?" he cooed.

She looked away, "It was a bit nosey in there," she explained.

"You like the quiet?"

"Hm," she hummed.

Devilish thoughts coursed through his brain; he'd been looking for a bit of entertainment, she seemed more than willing to oblige, even if she didn't know it yet.

"May I ask your name?" he request smoothly.

She glanced over her shoulder at him with a coy smile, "Sango."

"Sango," he let it roll off his tongue, "pretty."

She nodded in his direction, "and you?"

"Miroku." He inclined his head.

"You're Bryony house, correct?" She said suddenly, turning to meet his gaze.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"Why are you out here? Shouldn't you be in the thick of things, taking advantage of people with your games of chance?" her tone had slight accusatory inflection to it.

"I enjoy the quiet as well. From time to time," he replied evenly.

A half smile pulled at her lips, he watched the way the light danced across her face. There wasn't much choice in women, in his line of work, but he liked the shape of her face, her pouting pink lips, her dark lashes that surrounded her warm brown eyes. If he'd had to choose a type of women, it would be her type, he thought. Examining her face he noticed a strand of hair that had fallen from her wrap. He reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

She blushed prettily, giving her face a sweet glow. He liked that too, in a woman, he decided.

"Sango, would you like to play a game with me?" he retrieved his favorite pair of dice from his pocket, holding them flat out in the palm of his hand for Sango.

She watched him suspiciously, "What type of game?"

"The only type of game there is; the game of chance."

"Oh."

"You pick a number, and if I roll that number you win, if not I win."

"Sounds easy enough," she replied.

"Wonderful, what's your first choice?"

"Five."

"Good choice." With a practiced shake of his wrist he let the dice fall, revealing a five. "My, my, you must be a mind reader." he grinned.

Sango looked down at the dice in astonishment, before looking up to Miroku, "Are you cheating?"

He clutched his chest in indignation, "An adept of Bryony never cheats." Suspicion was evident in her gaze, but she didn't press him further. "Pick another number," he encouraged.

"Alright… eight."

Once more he shook his wrist letting the dice fall, revealing an eight.

"You are cheating!" she accused, her voice rising with the accusation.

He waggled his finger in front of her, "I told you we never cheat. This is the luck of the dice."

Three more times she guessed and he rolled, each time she got it correct.

"I think you have some type of mind reading powers," he teased.

Her nose scrunched up with irritation, "You're tricking me I know you are."

"Fine, once more to prove I'm not cheating. But how about we raise the stakes on this one?" He offered, raising his brow.

She gazed at him suspiciously, "Now I get what you're playing at. You let me win all those times so you could get something out of me." She scowled, which was as charming on her as her innocence was.

"Perhaps, but that is the way of chance." He grinned.

"Humpf." She crossed her arms over her chest looking away.

"So, one more game?" he jiggled the dice in her direction.

"What are the stakes?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Are you in?"

"Not until you tell me what I'm playing for."

"Nothing you wouldn't be willing to give up," he teased.

"No deal."

"Really?" He brushed her arm with his hand. He could feel shivers run up her body. Was that him, or was that her training coming to the surface? –adepts of Asylum were trained to be timid when with a prospective lover- that was the problem with trying to seduce an adept, their training always misinterpreted the signals, even for someone _trained _to read someone's unspoken messages.

He turned her to face him, "Pick a number."

"I won't agree to your terms."

"It doesn't matter, pick."

She rolled her eyes, "Seven."

Miroku rolled the dice… six.

"Oh too bad," he sighed.

"And why is that?"

"If you had bet, you could have spent the rest of the night with me." He grinned salaciously.

"Who said I'd like that?" she demanded, her timid persona shed before his eyes.

"You wouldn't know till you tried," he teased.

Sango stood to her feet, her face crimson. "It's getting late."

Miroku glanced up at the sky, already the first slivers of light had began to creep into the darkness of night, the Longest Night was coming to a close and so was the Masque.

"Indeed it is," he remarked, rising to his own feet.

"I should be getting back. It was nice meeting you, Miroku." She nodded in his direction and turned to leave.

"Wait," he called, "Play one more game before you go?"

She paused a few feet from him, glancing over her shoulder. "What game would that be?"

He strode over to her in a few steps. Grasping her about the waist, he brought her body close.

She tensed but did not pull away, "This one's a bit longer, but it has a prize you can't refuse," he whispered onto her skin, "I bet you that I can make you fall for me by the next Midwinter Masque."

"What do I get when I win?" she asked breathily.

"I will pay off your marque." He placed a gentle kiss along her pulse that quickened beneath his touch and with excitement.

"How could you afford that?" she demanded, "You're only an adept."

"But I've made my marque, and any money I make now is my own entirely. I'm willing to wager a year's earnings against you falling in love with me."

Sango pulled out of his grasp, "You've made an imbalanced bet, but I accept." Turning on her heels she headed through the stone archway.

"Until next year, Sango."

* * *

She hadn't been expecting him when she entered the dark-lit chamber. Lounging on her bed as if he owned the place, then again he seemed to pop up everywhere for the past eight months.

"Miroku," she greeted softly -as was required-.

"Sango," he purred, slinking up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"What brings you here tonight?" she entered the room, kneeling onto a square pillow on the ground, her eyes to the ground.

"I wanted to see you."

"You see me often enough," she remarked, breaking character, her agitation always seemed to be on the rise when he was around.

Miroku stood, striding over to her, he cupped her chin with his finger, "I wanted to see all of you."

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into his deep violet eyes.

"It's probably best," she smirked, despite herself "since you'll never win the bet. But I don't think you should be wasting the money you promised me, when you lose," she returned, her tone was mild but had an under-current of animosity.

Miroku chuckled, holding out his hand for her. She took it, hesitantly. Lifting her to her feet, he pulled her into his strong chest.

"I think that's what will make me fall in love with you, how stubborn you are."

Sango's cheeks burned crimson, "Did you pay for a night just to tease me?"

"Perhaps a little." She pulled back, once again, agitated. He didn't let her get far, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, "This is what I really came for," he replied when the pulled apart.

She'd heard before adepts were the best lovers, but she never believed it until he'd kissed her. One kiss had left her panting and wanting, like no client had ever made her feel.

Before she knew it his skilful hands were sliding her robe off her shoulders, following the fabric with his mouth and tongue, alighting her heated skin.

Wandering hands explored her body, the rise of her breasts, the swell of her rear; keeping her panting, wanting all the while. His hands traced along her rear and up her back to her half finished marque.

Miroku paused, "May I see your marque?" he asked.

For some reason her breath caught, as she nodded mutely for him. He span her around in his arms, his wide hands traced the stalks of the inked flower, to the tips of the narrowed leaves of the delicate twisting tattoo, halting where they ended just short of the cluster of flowers that would crown her shoulders once she'd paid her debt in full.

"Beautiful," he mused aloud.

She blushed deep enough to color the nape of her neck, Miroku twisted her around to meet his waiting lips, cupping her breasts, in his hand he rolled his thumb over the peak.

After a few breathless minutes, Sango pulled away. Watching him through her lashes, she made a completely impulsive request.

"Would you let me see your marque?"

A triumphant smirk played on his lips. But he silently moved to drop his robe dipping it below masculine shoulder blades. She gasped at the simple beauty of it, she'd never seen a completed Marque of any house other than her own, with a tentative hand she reached out to press a single digit to the twisted base of vines, that began just above his tail bone, it trailed up as twisted vines, before it fanned out over the lean muscles of his back with oak shaped leaves, leading up to a pair of intertwining five-petal white flowers. Her hands lingered on the details of the petals, before Miroku turned to capture her wrist.

Tears gathered in her eyes, for some odd reason.

"You're free, why are you wasting your time trying to make me fall in love with you." She demanded.

"I love my work," he replied simply.

She smacked his chest half heartedly, trying to pull away. But he only brought her close.

"I paid for the full night; I plan on using the full night."

With a nod of her head, she melted back into his embrace; an embrace that was becoming more welcoming every moment.

* * *

He'd waited a year, this had to be most unprecedented amount of patience he'd ever had. She was worth it though. Something about her had captured more than his interest, more than his wanting to win a bet, he wanted her. For the first time in his life he wanted something for himself. Not for gain, not for wealth, just for him.

Impatiently he waited in the courtyard where they'd first met, one year ago. He fiddled with the fine silk of his costume for this year –royalty of the desert countries theme-. Where could she be? He wondered. They were supposed to meet before the Sun Prince whisked away the crone, Winter Queen –the climax of the Midwinter Masque celebration-.

Just as the hour struck midnight, he caught the sound of shuffling feet, he turned to see her. She stood in the stone archway, dressed in her house's theme of Priests, and Priestess from a far away country. He could feel his breath catch at the sight of her. Her long chestnut hair was pulled back and fell down her shoulder. Her high collared gown left everything to imagination, covering ever last inch of skin. But he didn't need sight to remember ever inch of her pale skin, the marque that would surely have grown a few inches since he'd last seen it.

"Sango," he inclined his head in greeting.

"Miroku," she returned stiffly. Her arms held tightly at her sides.

He waited for her to approach, but when there was none forthcoming he came to her. He was nearly a hand's span away when she halted him.

"Wait," she said breathlessly.

He paused, searching her face. Why was it she was the only human he could never read? Her expression always kept him guessing.

"Before we take this further, we have a bet to conclude," she looked away, not meeting his gaze.

His expression fell, but he covered it with a cocky grin. "Oh, ready to admit defeat?"

She nodded her head, "ask me if I have fallen in love with you," she said quietly.

Miroku gulped audibly. "Sango, have you fallen in love with me?"

She shook her head not meeting his gaze. He could see tears welling up in her eyes. "I can't…"

His heart thunked wildly in his chest, he wasn't sure what was more disheartening losing a bet for the first time in his life, or losing love before it even began.

"I see." he grabbed a sack of coins that he'd brought, in good faith. "You'll need this then." he handed her the sack.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, "Let me finish," She scolded.

Miroku let his arm drop to his side.

Sango gave him a watery smile, "What I wanted to tell you is I can't, that I shouldn't… but I have."

New hope sprang up in his chest, filling him with warmth he didn't know possible. He grabbed her tightly to his chest, capturing her lips in a needy kiss. She loved him; he was in love for the first time in his life.

They pulled apart after a few breathless moments. Sango blushed leveling him with her gaze, "But I lost the bet, we can't _really _be together until I make my marque."

"Sango, from the moment I met you, I fell in love you. No amount of money will keep me from taking you for mine, fully." She buried her head into his chest, grasping at the silk of his robes. "You're mine Sango, forever. I promise."


End file.
